


Warmth

by smuttyandabsurd



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttyandabsurd/pseuds/smuttyandabsurd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To do with the cold and alcohol.</p><p>Russia/China. Alcohol consumption. Fluff. Short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

The bottle was already three-quarters empty. Ivan swirled the last few mouthfuls, eyes bloodshot, staring intently at the clear liquid. He had learned to find comfort in the burn at the back of his throat and the heat of the alcohol coursing through his veins; the state of bliss one finds at the bottom of the glass was what kept many of his children going, after all.  
  
He lifted the bottle to his lips. A mitten-clad hand clapped over his, stopping him.  
  
"Yao?"  
  
"Don't drink anymore aru," Yao urged softly.   
  
Ivan thought he saw disapproval in the slight downturn of his chapped lips. He recalled Yao's vehemence that sparked the first opium war, how he had collected the drugs that were slowly killing his children and set the pile alight. He was unlikely to sympathise with Ivan's need for the drink.  
  
Numbly Ivan loosened his grip and watched Yao pull away the bottle. He received a brief but encouraging smile in return.  
  
The cold was beginning to set in. Ivan folded his arms and buried into his scarf, and was about to settle into sleep when he heard the unmistakable sound of a long swig. He looked up; Yao was pulling a face, looking at the bottle in hand.  
  
"It tastes disgusting aru," he complained. Ivan smiled.  
  
"But it warms your skin."  
  
"…mm."  
  
Yao sat back into Ivan, holding tightly to the bottle, and wrapped his coat tighter around himself.  
  
"You're warmer aru," he mumbled sleepily.  
  
Ivan drew Yao closer.  
  
"Yao," he called again, voice low and hoarse with the burn. There was no reply. "Yao?"  
  
When he was certain the Chinese nation had fallen asleep, Ivan gingerly retrieved the bottle. It was empty.


End file.
